


Learn to Love

by ElizabethGreenleaf



Category: Beauty and the Beast (1991), Fairy Tales & Related Fandoms, Sleeping Beauty (1959)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Fairy Tale Retellings, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 07:50:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7836382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizabethGreenleaf/pseuds/ElizabethGreenleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phillip must find another way to defeat Maleficent's curse on his betrothed, Aurora, because he knows he cannot deliver 'true love's kiss.'</p><p>Aurora was not Maleficent's only victim. A young prince, in a far off kingdom, barely a teen was cursed by her as well. </p><p>Now a Beast, who has given up hope on ever being human again, the former prince is confronted by a young man on a quest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Phillip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Un-Betaed until I find someone who wants the job.

Once upon a time, there was a prince. His name was Philip. He was a fair lad with a kind disposition yet none would call him weak. He was valiant and noble, a true bourn leader to be sure. When he was still but a boy, no more than five, he was betrothed to an infant princess from a neighboring realm. He understood that he was expected to marry her upon her sixteenth birthday, but until that day, he was not to see her again. 

In those sixteen years, Philip grew into a man. He was a handsome man with auburn locks and eyes the amber of dark honey. He fought well with a sword and was nth on his feet when called upon to dance. He had the makings of an excellent tactician in the field of battle, sound planning and new ideas to better combat the lean years of harvest. With his father, the king often traveling to build treaties with foreign lands, it was left to Philip to run the everyday mundanities of the castle. 

As Princess Aurora’s birthday drew near, Philip began preparations for his trip. He was to ride ahead, establish himself at King Stephano’s court and the appropriate courtesans would follow to bare witness to his nuptials. 

Philip and his small band of guards were waiting on a rough dinner: a soup made of primarily salt pork, potatoes, and the last of the carrots in their provisions. Once served, their hardened heals of bread could be soaked and eaten, lest they go to waste. 

It was by this fire the men sat. Two of the guards were telling a saucy tale when an elderly woman approached their camp. 

“Grandmother, what brings you out to these woods all alone so late?” Philip asker her. “Please, come warm yourself by our fire. Have you eaten yet tonight? If not, we have food to spare.”

The guards looked on, wary of strangers, but the prince was genuine in his welcome. 

“Thank you,” the woman said settling down her overburdened pack. With the pack at her feet and the hood of her cloak pulled back, she looked a lifespan younger, middle aged, old enough to be any on of their mothers, but not as old as she first appeared. “It had been many miles since I rested. I do not have much, but perhaps it will be a good addition you your soup.” From within her pack she brought forth an onion, a sprig of dried herbs, and a few handfuls of berries tied up in a cloth. 

“Aye, this will make a fine addition, thank you.” 

Philip’s skills with a blade did not extend to cooking and so, one of the men took the onion in hand and chopped it up into the broth, a few pinches of herms bent in too. A reluctant meal of necessity suddenly had stomachs rumbling at the inviting aroma.

When dinner and dessert were eaten, the men had learned little more about their guest than they knew when she first arrived. She was quiet, well spoken, and adept at defecting questions she did not wish to answer. 

“It is late, mother. Would you like to sleep by our fire tonight? If you do not, I will worry about you, alone in the dark.” 

It was as though the woman could see to the very depths of Philip’s soul. At long last she nodded, unwrapping her bedroll from amongst her things. 

With the watches set for the night, they retired to their bedrolls, each man welcoming morpheus’ embrace.

Philip rose with the sun, his guard who was tasked with third watch was slumped against a tree, asleep. Phillip unsheathed his sword as he stood up. The rest of his guards were also asleep, their snores loud enough to conform as much. Their guest from the night before was awake, however, and tending to the fire, poking the embers back to life. 

“Do not be cross with your men. The could no more have staid awake than your horse learn to speak.” She giggled, though Phillip did not understand the joke. The hood of her cloak was pulled up, hiding the woman’s face from view. Her voice was different, yet the same. When Philip crossed to her, he saw that the woman kneeling before their fire was a mine, the blush of youth high in her cheeks. She was a stunning beauty, inhumanly perfect. Philips’ assessment of her beauty was appreciative, but not lustful. “Come, prince,sit by me. There is much for us to discuss.”

“You are a sorceress.” 

“Sorceress, enchantress, witch, call me what you like. There are many like me in the world and I see your path crossing that of one or more of my sisters’ in the future.”

“You can see the future?”

“Indeed. We all have gifts, mine is one of foresight. Nothing is certain, but ifI choose, I can see the most probable of all possible futures laid before you.”

“Your travels—you seek the kingdom of your betrothed.” It was not a question. 

“Yes.”

“She is lovely still in bud. Naive and sweet, darkness has not touched her life that she can tell. Darkness is waiting for her, the spell designed to keep her from happiness, from a life fulfilled is growing hungry. She is cursed.”

“What?”

“You do not know?”

“Know what?”

“As a babe she was cursed in her cradle, to die from the prick of a spinning wheel on her sixteenth birthday. The fairies have done what they could for her, altered the spell so that if she does prick her finger on a spindle that fateful day, she and her entire kingdom, shall be put to sleep.”

“Is there a cure?” 

“True love’s kiss.” 

The prince’s heart fell. He’d never felt the pull of love for a woman, regardless of her beauty. “Is there no other way?”

“You do not love your betrothed?” She seemed curious, though not surprised.

“I do not know her. Perhaps, given time, I could grow to love her, as my parents did, but there is not time for that, is there?”

“No, I am afraid not. You are not what I expected, Prince Phillip.”

“What did you expect?”

“Someone…with less facets.”

“Is there no other way to save Aurora, should this curse come to be?”

“There is one possibility.”

“Name it.”

“You must defeat the fairy turned witch who cast the spell.”

“Is that possible? Can fairies turn bad?”

“Indeed they can. And this one, Maleficent, is power hungry as well. She has learned the secrets of both her kind and witches, perverting her power. She in petty, cruel, and stunningly beautiful. She is also a shapeshifter.”

“What does she change into?”

“A dragon.”

“How precisely does one defeat a dragon?” 

“With cunning and a very special blade.”

“If I kill the dragon with the sword, the evil fairy dies and Aurora is saved?” 

“Maleficent’s magic will cease to exist and her enchantments and curses will fade from the land.” 

“Where do I find this blade?”

“It is the prized position of one of her most deplorable creations. The Beast.”

“He too was a prince once, before he slighted Maleficent.”

“What happened?”

“He was young and thoughtless. She was young and brash. The prince was in deep mourning, his family and much of the kingdom, including palace staff had been taken to Hades’ realm by illness. In fact, he’d scarcely had time to mourn at all, there was so much to do. He was an able bodied young man, young, but still close enough to be useful when so few were left. He did work few would have wanted to do, and no one dared ask it of him, he volunteered. He chopped fire wood, dug graves, washed bed linens, mucked out stables, and cleaned chamber pots. It was unglamorous but necessary work. More people continued to fall ill. 

“On a stormy night, Maleficent arrived at the gate to his palace. The prince himself greeted her. She was dressed much as I was when we first met, as an old crone. She asked for a place to spend the night. The prince refused. In his eye, he did not want to be responsible for another innocent death, in her eyes, he was a spoiled prince who needed to learn his place in the world. She knocked again, a mysterious storm brewing outside. This time she offered him a rose, an enchanted rose, in exchange for a night’s refuge from the storm. 

“The prince was young but knew all magic came with a price and he was too weary to discern what this flower’s cost would be. 

“’Take it and you’re heart’s desire will be yours.’ She offered. 

“And he was tempted, sorely, so. If he could have, he would want his heart’s dearest wish to be for something noble and self sacrificing, instead, his too few years on this earth showed and all he could think of was his mother holding him close in a soft blanket when he was a child. He did not trust himself not to somehow doom his kingdom and have the old woman’s blood on his hands if he accepted the gift. 

“When he turned her away for a third time, she transformed into her painfully beautiful self. The prince begged for her forgiveness. What had he done? She was powerful and could save them all. Maleficent, vain as she was saw only another weak man who was cowed by her beauty and power. 

“‘For your discourtesy, rudeness, and vanity I will punish you and all who dwell here.’

“‘Please, I have done you wrong. Spare my people and I will do anything you wish.’ He kneeled at her feet. 

“‘You are a product of this poisonous environment. Let all who encouraged this inhospitality be cursed. None shall be spared.’

“And so she cast a spell on the castle and all who lived there that day. For the crime Maleficent perceived as vanity, the prince was dealt a disfiguring curse, leaving him part man, part beast. To be sure no one would come to the prince’s aid, Maleficent spread rumors in the village bellow that a Beast had taken up residence in the castle and killed everyone present. She sowed enough fear that they were willing to stay away, but should he ever dare to step foot outside the grounds the Beast would attack. The villagers did not investigate, they mourned their dead and created legends about the Beast that now inhabited their castle. And, as for the servants and staff of the castle? They could be either seen or heard, but not both simultaneously. The prince was thankful for one thing, however.”

“What?” Phillip asked, having been listening carefully to the enchanters’ story. 

“The curse made them all…inhuman and thus not susceptible to human illness. Even those who had been on the brink of death were saved, in a manner of speaking.”

“And if the curse is broken? Will they still be healed?”

“Aye.” 

“How is his curse to be broken?” 

“He must learn to love, before the last petal falls on the enchanted rose.”

“The same one Maleficent offered him?”

“Precisely. Once the last petal falls, he will be more beast than man and the curse will be irreversible.”

“How many petals are left?”

“Too few.”

“You said that this prince, this Beast, he has the sword I will need to defeat Maleficent?”

“Aye, in his father’s armory. It is the oldest of the collection. A simple yet brutal blade. It does not look like much, but it is more powerful than you can imagine.”

Philip sat in companionable silence with the sorceress, who offered him a cup of tea, though there was no pot in sight and the cup was delicate. The sun was rising over the horizon and still his men slumbered on, unnaturally. 

“Why have you told me all of this?” He asked, returning the cup to her. He suddenly desperately needed to know. 

“You offered an old woman kindness and asked for nothing else in return. I am old, much older than I look in any guise. There was a time when great magical workings—for I’ll or for good—were something rare, something few with even a century’s lifespan saw twice. I grow weary of Maleficent’s meddling. Maleficent needs to be stopped and in ever permutation I can glean, it has always been your destiny to do so. In another life, you love Aurora, face off against the Maleficent in dragon form, kill her, and escapee to the tower where Aurora sleeps, waiting for you. With true love’s kiss you awaken her and all the kingdom. True love conquers all and you live happily ever after.”

“And this is not my fate?” 

“Look in your heart. You know it is not, no matter how much you might wish it.” 

“If I follow the path you speak of, the one that leads to The Beast’s castle, what will my fate be then?”

“There are still many possibilities. Your path will cross with Maleficent’s, one way or another, I see no way around this. Your journey to get there, even the timing of such a battle, let alone it’s outcome…there are too many variables.”

“I don’t see much choice then. 

“There are always at least two choices: do something or do nothing.”

“I will go to the Beast then.”

“I thought you might.”

“I will have to leave my men behind, won’t I?”

“If you want to succeed, yes.”

Philip began to pack, gather provisions. “How far is the journey?”

“Three days ride if you don’t push your horse. Here,” She drew a fine map of parchment from within her cloak. It was an incredibly detailed map. She pointed out the road to him and the castle that most other cartographers would have left off to prevent men from deciding the Beast’s castle was worth a plunder. 

“I must write my men a note and one for my parents too so they shan’t be blamed for my actions.” He brought out a traveling writing desk to pen the notes

For hr part, the sorceress sat calmly by, as though his hurrying about was but a trifling to her.

“Any advice for me before I go?” Phillip asked as he tucked the letters under his closest companion’s clenched fist. 

She was thoughtful about it before deciding what to say. “Pain manifests itself in many ways. Remember this when you meet the Beast.”

Phillip nodded, expecting that he would understand the advice better once he was on his way. “Does the Beast have another name?” Philip asked her as he checked his saddle and its bags twice before he even considered mounting.

“He did, once. I think he has forgotten it by now.” She sounded sad, almost pitting.

Philip was mounted atop his horse, Samson, when he asked the sorceress, “What can I call you?”

“Oh, I have had many names, my prince. The one I enjoyed most was Nimue, when I was but the lady of the lake.” 

“Well then Nimue, when the tale of my valiant quest is told by the birds or written down in lore, I will be sure they name you correctly, the fair and beautiful sorceress who believed in hope.”

Nimue gave him an indulgent smile before turning back the way she’d come. A curling mist of fog curled around her as she stepped out of Phillip’s view. The prince gave a final look at his comrades and friends, hoping that they would forgive him when their paths crossed again.


	2. Phillip

At nightfall on the third day, Phillip came upon what could only be the village that was once ruled over by the Beast’s family. It was a dismal, unwelcoming place by night and Philip was glad he’d tucked all mentions of his lineage safely away. He could not fully hide his upbringing, but he could pass as a country lord, son of a knight and land owning, but a small fiefdom to be sure. 

Samson was uneasy with the holster until Phillip whispered a few words in his ear and produced the last of their apples as a treat. The horse whined in appreciation and went docilely enough. It would be near impossible to tell he was a warhorse no just a steed well used to climbing hills and valleys with her traveling master. 

In the tavern bellow the only welcoming inn, Philip kept his requests simple and brief. Dinner for himself, oats for his hoarse, and a tidy room to rest head on. His coin disappeared into the innkeeper’s hand with a gruff nod. 

The common rom of the tavern was a place where everyone in the town seemed to gather. Philip walked through the lot of them to a moderately lit table towards the back. He was neither trying to be cocky nor meek. He wanted these people to forget he was there, to slip up about…something. 

“She had a mind to go and rescue the creature.” One man said with disgust. He seemed to be a man of some prominence in the town. “I saved her from herself. The Beast would have ripped her to shreds. A few days and nights in the stocks ought to help her thinking. If I hadn’t stopped her, who knows what might have happened. The Beast could have killed us all in our sleep.”

Philip stayed in the tavern until it was late enough to retire without suspicion. The evening was far from enjoyable. The townspeople were paranoid, xenophobic, and superstitious. Philip spent most of the night seemingly lost in drink though most of it wen on the floor. He was well aware of the stares and the talk going on around him and he expected a very public confrontation and interrogation come morning. He retired to his rented room and slept for a scant few hours on the straw mattress and then quietly dressed, gathered his belongings, and made for the stables. Samson didn’t make a sound saver happily munching n the carrot Phillip had acquired as he quickly saddled him.

The streets were all dirt here, not the cobbles of the larger cities, which made for a much a quieter escape. Samson was used to the need for stealth and docilely walked next to his master as they made their way up the street and towards the town center. In the main square there was a fountain and a courtyard. There was also a woman, who’s feet were trapped in a wooden stockade who was eying him carefully. 

Deducing who she must be, Phillip walked towards her. 

“I hear you might be able to point me in the direction of the Beast’s castle.” 

“You must be mad. If they catch you you’ll be right here with me.” She nodded to the stockade next to her. 

“I’ll have to be sure they don’t catch me then.”

She almost smiled back. She was still hesitant. “What do you want with the Beat?”

“To free him and his castle from their magical enchantment.”

Of all the things Phillip could have said, that seemed to shock her the most. “Who are you?”

“A man with a quest. I need the help of the man behind the Beast.”

“I…knew him,” The woman told him. 

“Who?”

“The prince. The Beast.”

“How do you know the prince is the Beast and that the creature is not some foul visitor bent on distraction?” Philip probed carefully. 

“My mother worked in the castle as a midwife. She was in the village helping with a difficult birth and I was fetching things for her the night of the storm. We were not cursed but I knew those who were. My brother was among them. I visit the castle some times, to check on Michael. I have never been near the Beast, but Michael whispers to me, he told me everything. The prince and I, we played together as children in the gardens. He was a good boy, if spoiled. He cannot be as changed and monstrous as the townspeople claim. I have wanted for years to go and really check on him, to see with my own eyes, but Michael always stops me.” Tears welled up in her eyes. 

“What is your name?”

“Belle.”

“Well, Belle, how long has it been?”

“Since this curse was laid upon us? Eight years but it feels like a lifetime. The people down here have such short memories. Life was good under the king and queen. We prospered. They forget.”

Phillip looked to her entrapment. 

“Let me get you out of these.”

“No. Could easily pick the lock and get myself out but this is my home. I have no where else to go. Two days In the stocks? I will take their punishment. Besides, if you free Michale, I want there to be someone here who still loves and remembers him.”

Philip nodded. “Your mother?”

“Died. Two winters back. It was a lean year and she always put others’ health before her own.”

“I am sorry for your loss. For her sake, and your brother’s, be more careful next time.”

Belle tried to look cross but failed. “Of course.”

“Is there nothing I can do for you? Food, drink?”

“Some people think my punishment too severe. They are keeping me well enough fed. Do you have anything to read? A book perhaps? I haven’t been able to afford anything new in ages, not that there is anything here left to buy.” She gestured to the closed up store fronts. 

“I am sorry I don’t.” Phillip enjoyed reading but rarely traveled with a tome. 

“Ah well, I shall just have to make one up for myself.”

“About a dashing prince’s quest?” Phillip asked, joking. 

Belle held up a hand to silence him. “What was that sound?” She hissed, looking alarmed.

“Someone is coming.” Philip hesitated before asking the question he needed the answer to. “Do you remember the prince’s name?”

“They are coming, uttering it here is likely to have me whipped as well as bound.”

“Please? I do not know much about magic, but I know there is power in knowing the true name of a thing. If I am to have any hope of freeing your trapped prince and his subjects, I may need to know it.”

Phillip knelt down so Belle could whisper it in his ear.

“Go! When you get to the castle, go to the stables first. Ask for my brother, he will take care of your horse and show you inside. ” She demanded and Phillip was on his horse and galloping down the street as the approaching men entered the square.

The Sunday was just creeping over the horizon when Philip came upon the border of the castle’s property. There was almost a line delineating what was and what was not under an enchantment. It was as though the rays of sunshine were diluted somehow on the other side. Philip would swear there was something watching him from within the trees. 

Nature was reclaiming the road where few feet had traveled in the past nine years. Philip pulled out the nap Nimue had given him. He’d been surprised to find that when he tapped on a place on the map, he’d first done it thoughtfully debating with road to take, the map would focus in on that area, giving him impossible detail for as long as his finger remained on the parchment. It was an awesome artifact and saw fit to remind Philip daily that he was dealing with things that were supernatural. 

The fog that clung to the castle grounds and the clouds that did not break up under the sun’s gaze felt anything but natural. Philip road into the main courtyard of the castle, a once ostentatious exterior was falling to ruin. It was certainly a castle that was built to impress more so than protect. He caught glimpses of faces in windows but they were gone in an instant. 

In the stables he heard two people quietly arguing. The older an adult male with a voice rough from a lifetime of smoking a pipe asked, “Are you sure you know what to do?”

“I’m not a baby, you know. I remember how to do this.” The second voice was that of a boy, maybe eleven or ten.

“Michael?” Phillip asked quietly. 

“Who’s asking?” The voice was closer now but no one was there. 

Philip tried not to stare, to discern where the disembodied voice was coming from. “My name is Phillip. I am here to help, if I can. I met your sister down in the village.”

“Is she alright? She was supposed to come last weekend but did not arrive.”

“She was caught on her way up here and was in a bit of trouble with the townspeople after that.”

“Is she alright?”

Philip tried his best to be positive and not let his worry for the woman in the stocks show in his voice. “Don’t worry lad, Belle will be fine. She’s a strong lass.”

A grinning lad who was caught between wiry boy and willowy teen stood in front of him, grinning. He led Sampson into a stall and silently got to work. Phil watches as the boy hummed and whistled soundlessly at his work. Nimue had been right, these people could be seen or heard but not both. A maddening existing to be sure. 

“Whats wrong with the boy’s sister?” The voice from earlier asked once they were out of earshot of the stall. 

“They had her ankles clapped in the stocks in town square. And they had some rather cruel things to say after a few drinks at the tavern.”

“Blast. That girl should have left years ago.”

“She cares too much about all of you.”

“There won’t be much left to care about soon enough.”

“I am hoping to prevent that.”

“You intend to break the curse?” 

“Yes. I will need an audience with your master, if you can arrange it.”

“Aye, I can arrange it, it is a terrible idea however.”

“Perhaps, but I would like an audience none the less.”

“You know more about what is happening here than you are letting on.”

Phillip grinned at the spot of air he was approximating to be where his companion was. He wasn’t far off when the man materialized and gestured for Philip to follow him. 

Philip waited in the throne room for an audience with the Beast/Prince who had never been crowned king. 

Philip felt the quality of air in the room change. He did not hear a door open nor he did not hear footsteps on the ground. From one instant to the next, the Beast was not there and then he was. 

The Beast was more man than Philip had dared hope, though that was not saying much. His hands and feet were more like those of the lion he’d seen in a menagerie once. He wore breeches and a cape and what Philip could see in glimpses, he was fully coved with fur, except where his skin was crisscrossed with scars. For al the aspects of him that were beastly, his beautiful blue eyes were oh so human. 

“Why have you come?” The Beast’s voice was a rumble and rasp, the sound echoing deep, the tongue and teeth never designed for speech. 

“I am on a quest, to defeat an evil sorceress and you have in your armory the very blade I need. I wish to make a trade.”

“What do you intend to trade?”

“My self. For the next six months, I am yours to command.”


	3. The Beast

The years had not been kind to the Beast. He had been a thirteen year old boy, driving the loss of his parents when he doomed his people. At first he tried to act as though nothing had changed. He slept in his bed the first night only to find the bed linens torn to ribbons when he awoke in the morning from a nightmare only to be reminded that the nightmare was now his reality. Every moment of his day was a slap in the face. He could not dress himself, he couldn’t use utensils to feed himself. It was defeat laid on defeat. His in turns silent and invisible servants drove him mad with guilt. It was only for their sakes that he mastered walking upright on what were once his feet and it was them that kept him talking. 

Speaking was a frustrating task. His tongue was now long and flat, not the agile muscle he once had. It was as though he were an infant again.

The desire to be what he had been, to move on with his life only lasted for so long. Every broken dish, torn shirt, misspoken word, they boiled and rolled in his belly until finally he broke. 

He raged and roared. Anger filled him. If he could have chased down that sorceress he would have, and he would have slowly pulled her apart and eaten her alive. 

He was a fearsome creature. The animals of the forest, even the predator beasts deferred to him. He was agile and young. Strong. The range that boiled inside of him had an outlet and everyone and everything steered clear of him. Most servant stayed invisible in his presence out of self preservation. 

The calming words of those he doomed haunted him. Those maddening voices were all that reminded him he was human. Partially, anyways. 

Eventually, the rage turned inward and he began mauling himself. The cuts and bruises always healed, but there was a web of scars beneath his matted coat. 

There had to be books on magic and curses in the library but the Beast could no longer turn the pages of the books and asking a servant to turn them for him made him feel young and ignorant. Even if he did have the right book, it was likely in a language he couldn’t read. Instead, he prayed to whomever was listening. He offered anything and everything to have the spell lifted. Nothing worked. 

The beast slipped into a depression, scarcely willing to hunt a mouse for his dinner. 

The arrival of a foreign Prince, this Phillip made the beast feel every inch of what he himself was lacking. Tall, with broad shoulders and a trim waist, spry, lively. The Beast hated him on sight.

The idea that Phillip would be his servant in exchange for a blade from the armory was laughable. 

The Beast took Phillip at his word and created tasks for him to accomplish. Many were menial jobs he could have asked of any servant. Philip never complained. He worked in the laundry this his hands cracked, in the gardens until he had calluses, but despite all of this, he awoke with the Sunday (or earlier) and practiced his sword and stay skills. Ad the first month drew to a close, the Beast could look out his window in the morning and watch more than a dozen of his servants mimic Phillip’s stretches. 

“Why?” The beast growled out over breakfast one morning.

“Why what?” Phillip asked, deftly cutting up an apple and popping slices into his mouth.

“Why do you let them practice with you?”

Phillip looked thoughtful and swallowed before answering. “Don’t you know, sire? They fear what will become of them when you are…no longer yourself. If they still remain when you are gone—this is a point of contention—they don’t know if they will be doomed to haunt this halls as incorporeal ghosts or if someone will come along, headless of the stories of the Beast who once lived hear and find a castle of mute servants, ripe to be sold off as slaves because they cannot protest. They want to be able to defend the castle. Defend you, if it comes to that.” 

They sat quietly for a while before Philip got up to go to work. “I am needed in the kitchens. We are making jam today and someone needs to stir the pots.” At the door he turned back, his voice echoing in the large and empty hall. “They love you, your people. They would do anything you asked of them.” 

The Beast was loathed to admit the effect Phillip’s words had on him but once the jam and preserves were done for the time being, the Beast set him a new task: teach all of the servants the basic skills of combat. 

From inside the castle The Beast watched as Philip trained waves of new students in half hour to hour blocks of time, the most many of them could be spared from their work. Over and over he did staff drills. “The staff is most important for you to learn because almost every job you do, almost every place you go, you are surrounded by tools with sturdy sticks for handles. If you know how to manipulate a staff, you can defend yourself with a shovel, a rake, a broom, or laundry paddle. We will start with defense first. Being able to hit an opponent isn’t worth a damn if they can knock you unconscious.”

The work was slow and tedious but the Beast saw progress. By the end of Phillip’s second month in the castle, he came to the Beast with a request. “Fighting wooden dummies is all well and good, but they need to spar with each other. Is there armor or practice gear they can use? Quilted tunics or heat chest plates?”

“There was a barracks once. Just beyond the western wall of the castle. It has not been used since my grandfather’s day.” The Beast said thoughtfully. “I don’t know what became of the equipment.”

“May I have you permission to go and investigate the area?”

“If you go, you go alone. It is outside the castle walls and none of the servants risk leaving.”

“Why is that?”

“Have you met Simon?”

“The old man who cares for the castle’s cats and dogs?”

“Have you ever heard him speak?” 

Phillip seemed to think long and hard about it before answering. “No, never.” 

The Beast spoke carefully, Phillip’s presence forcing him to practice talking more and more. “It is because he no longer has a voice. One of his charges was injured out in the forest. He could see the dog at the tree line. The dog was one he considered family. It was only a few weeks after we were cursed and we, I never considered the limitations. He returned with the dog who he nursed back to health. He was so devoted to the creature’s care it was not until the next day that we realized what had happened. He could not transform, could not speak.”

“The dog he rescued?”

“Could not be saved. He wept silently into her coat. He has not been the same since.”

Alone, Phillip traveled out to the barracks. The Beast prowled the closest parapet to keep an eye on him, ostensibly to make sure he did not run away, but also to beside no harm came to him.


End file.
